Have you seen the film He’s Just Not That Into You? I don’t care how much of a film snob you are, that film is educational. Well, you know the story involving Anna (Scarlett Johansson), Ben (Bradley Cooper), and Conor (Kevin Connolly)? For those of you unfamiliar with the film, the story is very simple. Anna falls for a (married) man called Ben. Whenever she is not getting the attention she craves from Ben, she uses Conor, because she knows that he is crazy about her and is willing to fill her with compliments and assurances.

Why is this relevant? Because I am Anna (although I can only dream of being as beautiful as Scarlett Johansonn), and my man is Ben (although, thankfully, he’s not married). He is taking the phrase ‘playing it cool’ to a frustrating level, and I am becoming bored with the situation. I went against The Rules and messaged him saying I missed him (I said it in a cute kind of jokey way)… and he ignored it. I told him it was rude to ignore compliments and emotional sentiments, to which he told me he does not agree with returning compliments because then they wouldn’t seem genuine. But he never really gives them at all. All I know is that he’s messaging other girls and trying to provoke jealously by looking at the slutty TV Presenter’s twitter in front of me (see previous post Oh I do like to be bedside the Seaside… I Think). So knowing the Rules, and craving the attention of Ben, I now have my very own Conor. Apart from Conor isn’t only one man; Conor is the men that are trying to pursue me, and the men that want to take me on dates. So I suppose I should introduce you to the Conor’s of my life…

1. Museum Man. I went to University with him so have known him as a friend for a long time. We kissed a few times before I went on holiday and met my man. He is perfect on paper: Head boy at school, captain of rugby, rower, intelligent, extremely handsome. Perfect on paper often means boring in real life. And well, there isn’t much of a spark there. He text me a bit since my return from holiday, but I was fazing him out. However, last Saturday I decided to go on a day date with him. The problem is, he only ever wants to go to museums. Don’t get me wrong, I like museums, but they aren’t exactly the most fun places in the world. And when there is no spark, and you’re in a musuem… Well it’s certainly not my dream date. We will only ever be friends, which is fine with me.

2. Catchphrase Man. The long awaited Catchphrase Date! Saturday evening… yes, dear readers, that does mean I went on two dates in one day. Catchphrase man is definitely not my usual type. He’s a banker. But we have chatted in the past and we got on and so, in the words of Dr Pepper, what’s the worst that can happen? On Saturday evening he informed me a taxi would pick me up at 8pm. Mysterious. Good start. The taxi dropped me off at Piccadilly Circus where he was waiting, and he took me to Bobby’s Bar, which is, as described on the website, a luxury English and Russian menu […] in London’s most glamourous all-booth dining room. A little snooty for my liking, especially as he was wearing a velvet dinner jacket. Plus, he ordered me a vodka shot without asking me – I like confidence, but I do not like shots (especially for my first drink of the evening), and I don’t really like to drink alcohol. Bad start. After a drink, we moved onto the next part of the night, which turned out to be one of my favourite places, the Soho Theatre. We ended up watching an amazing comedy duo called New Art Club. I love comedy! Perhaps I had been too judgmental. After that, we went for some more drinks at Paramount Bar, which gives the most amazing panoramic views of London, and then we moved on for a quick dance at a tiny club called Bourne and Hollingsworth, before heading back to his to play the music game and chat until I got a taxi home at 5am. We got on very well. I (somewhat briefly and reluctantly) kissed him. But something just wasn’t there… Perhaps it’s because he’s quite camp. Perhaps because, on removing my boots I realised I was wearing my man’s socks, and found myself wishing I was with him. Perhaps it’s cause he was a little keen, and started looking up flights on Ryanair so we could go away on a spontaneous city break for a day. There’s not enough excitement. No challenge. No Liesl feeling. Perhaps we girls are very complicated, because if my man did something like that I would be over the moon…

3. Frenchman. Monday evening. Third date in three days. I have known the Frenchman for over 7 years now. He was my French tutor whilst I was in my final year at school and I was completely obsessed with him. He was 23 and a rugby player. We kissed (and a little more) the summer that I left school, but I didn’t want anything to happen and things fizzled out, but we have always kept in touch. He’s extremely good-looking, built like a rugby player, now works in finance, and is VERY confident. He does not believe in compliments (giving or receiving), and he doesn’t like the idea of sharing things as a couple (I believe he’s even told me he’d want seperate bedrooms in the future – something I find strange). But I know he wants me, and around him I am confident – he even thinks I am extremely detached and unemotional with men…. if only he knew! Anyway, that’s enough background. I suggested we go to my favourite vegan restaurant near my house 222. I was slightly apprehensive about inviting an ex-rugby player to a restaurant that doesn’t serve meat, but he is extremely open-minded to discovering new things; a trait I find extremely attractive. Dinner was great, conversation was great, so everything was great… until the end of the night when he went for a kiss on the lips and I went for a kiss on the cheeks. Love awkward goodbyes! He has been messaging me since asking to see me, and I am intruiged by him…

4. Model Man. I used to work with this guy as a model a few years ago. He always asked for my number and I always turned him down. It became a bit of a joke actually. He’s very good looking (although he’s blonde, which isn’t my type), but a bit arrogant. People either love him or hate him, but he’s nice deep, deep down. Anyway, he asked to take me on a date when I got back from holiday, but obviously I was committed (emotionally) to my man, so I declined. Now that my man is not giving me what I want (and presumably messaging other girls), I finally gave Model Man my number. He joked that persistance definitely pays off! Nothing to report yet as I have rejected all his requests for dinner / drinks / lunch because I have been too busy… and I’m just not that interested.

5. Comedi(m)an. Exactly as his name suggest. He’s a professional comedian and has been dubbed a rising star of comedy. I met him after his show at the Edinburgh Fringe last year, and have bumped into him after a few of his small gigs in London. You might think this makes me a groupie, but HE was the one to start tweeting ME and HE added ME on facebook. Technically he’s my groupie. Anyway, there is nothing in life I find more attractive than people who make me laugh, and being a comedian, he’s pretty good at that. He’s not the most stereotypically attractive man, but when has that ever bothered me? We’ve chatted a lot and he has invited me for drinks on Wednesday night. Watch this space.
So they are my Conor’s. Am I using them? No. I suppose if my man continues to play it cool, and message other people in my face, then I will move on. It’s boring. But it’s a shame. We get on so well. Maybe I should tell him how I feel? But that goes against the Rules. And why should I have to be the one? In the past I have been very upfront about my emotions to avoid any game playing, and I have chased men away because they get the impression I am too keen. Am I keen? I like my man, but at the same time I don’t like him enough to put my pride on the line or put up with his rubbish. He must know I like him, surely?

What is clear is that relationships are very complicated. It’s always the ones you aren’t interested in that act the way you want the one you are interested in to act.

I don’t like having multiple men on the scene. I don’t like leading men on and then dropping them. I feel bad going on a date with a man, and then not wanting anything more. I am a one-man girl. I like the butterflies. I like thinking my man is the best thing in the world. Why do the dating rules make that so complicated? Why can’t you just like one man, and make it clear that you like him without him losing interest? Surely if you aren’t really keen, and just matter of fact about your emotions then that’s a nice feeling? Or am I old fashioned?

So this is where things are, dear readers. Me, a less attractive Anna, wanting the unmarried Ben, and trying not to be crazy and moving forward with my life with the multiple Conor’s. I’m trying to remember all the wise lessons from the film, and not make excuses for his poor behaviour (lack of confidence, age, intimidation), and remind myself that perhaps he’s just not that into me.

The Rules state you should date other guys until you are certain about who you want. Well, actually, the book says you should continue to date until there’s a ring on your finger, but I’m not that desperate for marriage, and would like to practice fidelity if I felt serious enough about the man.

2 weeks ago, I gave my number to a man. I bump into him at work a lot, and we’ve had chit-chat for the last few months. On bumping to him a fortnight ago, he said he had an invitation for me to go to an event he thought I’d like, then asked for my number. Why not, I thought. Only I didn’t hear from him.

On Monday, I received a Facebook message from him letting me know he had lost his phone that very evening, and it had taken him this long to find me. He still had an event to take me to and asked if I’d give him my number (again). I replied (on Tuesday, I’m busy and unattainable of course), with my number and told him I wouldn’t give it to him a 3rd time.

A few hours later, I received a text telling me not to lose this number. Of course I knew it was from him, I rarely give my number out, but the rules state you must act like you are desirable and being pursued by lots of men, so I asked him to clarify whose number it was that I must guard so closely.

Then last night, I received a phone call from him. I like it when men call. It shows confidence, and it takes away the awkwardness, toneless texting game. He asked how many guys I give my number out to that I didn’t know it was him. (Blush).

Anyway, he asked if I was free on Saturday 13th October (booking in advance is a great sign according to the rules). He told me it was a surprise. I like surprises.

He asked if I had ever seen Catchphrase. Do you remember the 90’s TV Show presented by Roy Walker in which contestants would have to identify a familiar phrase by a piece of animation accompanied by background music? Well, he explained that over the next couple of weeks he would send me sporadic Catchphrase-style clues about what we’d be doing. If I guess it right before the day, he’ll get me a present.

How exciting! And also how very clever. This now means he has successfully ensured our date will be on my mind from now until it happens. Very clever indeed.

But obviously I’m now a rules girl and would never giveaway excitement. I’m aloof, busy, and unattainable. So I said I looked forward to it but had to go, and I ended the call.

I’m already excitedly awaiting the first Catchphrase Clue. And of course I’ll share them all with you, dear readers. In the words of the Hunger Games let the games begin!

I am already nervous. This weekend I will be going to the seaside for the whole weekend to see my man. Why am I nervous? He lives with his parents. That means from Friday night through to Sunday I am staying at his. With his parents. Shudder.

I feel sick.

Having now read the Complete Book of Rules, I have decided to be more aloof. More unattainable. (See my Blog em>;Call Me Maybe). And the reality is that I am quite chilled and aloof about the whole situation. I just need to stop pretending to be more into it than I really am, and start to make him sweat a little.

Surely going to his parent’s house is totally and utterly against all the rules I vowed to follow? It goes against keeping things light-hearted. Acting like I don’t care. Letting him make the effort to come to me…

And I really don’t know how comfortable I am with the situation. I am changing my mind on a hourly, no, minutely basis. I don’t really like him enough at this stage to meet the parents. But I am not meeting the parents because it’s a stage we are at. I am meeting his parents because of purely practical reasons… because he lives at home. And it is a little nice to think he sees me as the kind of girl he can introduce to his parents…

Part of me is excited. I haven’t seen him since our fun day in the rain two Sundays ago. I’ve already began my beauty regime so I look and feel amazing one Friday (I know, I know, it’s sad). And it will be exciting to jump on a train straight after work on Friday…

Part of me is doubtful. Do I still like him? Do I like him enough to tolerate a weekend surrounded by his family?

Cancel the weekend. Wait for him to come to me.

Don’t go Friday night. Just see him Saturday – Sunday.

Stop over-thinking it. It will be fun. Have a fun weekend, keep it light-hearted, then play it cool after the weekend.

And, according to the Complete Book of Rules, it’s never too late to start the rules!

Either way, at least I’ll have an interesting story to tell you on Sunday night..!

Being at the start of a new relationship (and I mean relationship in a very loose sense of the word, as obviously there has been no talk of commitment yet), I am rather aware of ‘the game’. He lives 2 hours away from me, so I have to depend on my phone to keep in touch with him. But do I get in touch with him? Or do I wait for him to get in touch with me? Should I call him, or is that too keen?

We have grown up being told that we should play hard to get to capture a man’s attention. Men like challenges, so we should be aloof. But I like challenges too. And if we both play it cool, then neither of us will get in touch. And don’t men like confident girls? And if I want to speak to someone, shouldn’t I just be able to do it without worrying if he’ll still like me because I initiated contact? Do I really want to be with someone anyway if I can’t act myself?

And then we get down to the actual text messaging. Do I reply if he doesn’t ask questions? How can I be funny on a text message? Will he pick up on my sarcastic tone or think I’m being serious? Has he not put kisses on the end because he doesn’t like me, or simply because he doesn’t put kisses on texts?

Something very simple has suddenly become something very complicated. And what is acceptable?

I have lots of girlfriends who treat men badly. Like shit actually. And the result is that they have men falling at their feet. Literally. But does a woman have to be a bitch in order for a guy to like her? I know these girls, and I know that deep down they like the guy, but they aren’t comfortable with showing their emotions, and isn’t that because of pride and the fear of getting hurt?
And what about these obsessed men? Do they truly like the girl for who she is? Or do they just like her because they can’t have her? And isn’t all of this a huge effort to be with someone? Because surely you should be with someone that likes you for who you are, someone who makes you feel comfortable for being you, and who makes your life that little bit more exciting. Or is that just my romantically charged mind idealising relationships?

And I’m really not very good at playing games. Because if someone does something that annoys me, I react. And if someone arranges to meet me and doesn’t, I react. And if I text someone and they don’t reply, I react (in a jokey way and I wait at least a day, I’m not that crazy). And that’s how I treat my friends, so why should a man be any different? However, by reacting, I probably have given the impression that I’m crazy. But why should I tolerate someone treating me badly or making me feel inadequate? Because I want someone to appreciate me, and to realise what they have, and I shouldn’t have to compromise… Or should I? Because thinking about it, I HAVE scared a few guys away, or I’ve lost patience with them and ended it even though I still liked them.

And because I like my new man, and because I want him to like me, I’ve been thinking a lot about ‘the game’ and how I should play things. And I’ve been wondering whether I should wait for him to text me (we’ve all seen the film He’s just not that into you, and if he likes you he will get in touch, right?), or do I just text him (he’s probably trying to play it cool too, and we live in different cities so I don’t want things to fizzle out just because we were both trying to play it cool). And so far, I’m going with the just do what you feel frame of mind. It was ME to suggest he came from the airport to mine, ME to send the message to clear the air after the whole TV presenter fiasco, and ME to invite myself to the seaside. But i don’t mind driving it, because I’m confident, and I can tell that HE likes me. Or does he? Am I just making it too easy? Maybe I should start to reverse the power now.

So I’ve bought a book (I was directed towards the Self-Help section in Waterstones – how demoralising!). It’s called the Complete Book of Rules. Apparently is tells you time-tested secrets for capturing the heart of Mr Right. And what’s more, it’s a multi-million copy bestseller, so apparently I’m not the only girl on the planet to be questioning this.
But why should we have to use games to impress Mr Right? Surely playing games and not being ourselves means we capture the heart of Mr Not-Right?
But I’m going to read it. And I’m going to try it. And you can be certain that I’ll share my discoveries and report my experiences with you, dear readers.

Have you seen the Sound of Music? You know the scene when the eldest daughter, Liesl, sneaks out into the night to meet Rolf and is so overcome with happiness she spins round and round laughing in the pouring rain? Well, right now I am Liesl von Trapp, apart from I’m not 16 going on 17 (and luckily my man is not a Nazi).

Did I actually spin around in the pouring rain? Of course not. I think I would have scared him away. The one great thing about age and experience, is that it makes you cool and collected… on the outside at least. I suppose girls never truly age when it comes to matters of the heart!

So let me tell you about my day at the seaside in the pouring rain… Wake up naturally at 7:56am. Check train times (9:12am), check weather (wet and cold). Get out of bed at exactly 8:36am feeling calm, and excited, and slightly apprehensive that I only have about half an hour to get my train. What do I wear for our date out of London? I’m thinking warm, comfortable, slightly rural, but cute. Abercrombie & Fitch skinny jeans, Ralph Lauren beige top, Nine West black leather flat biker boots, Abercrombie & Fitch burgundy lamb wool fleece, Barbour beige quilted jacket and green checked scarf. Make up? Natural. A bit of Mac Solar Riche bronzing powder, Mac shimmer blush (nice pink cheeks), some Benefit the’re Real! Mascara, and Vaseline aloe vera lip balm. Hair? Long, down, and a bit messy (well it’s going to be windy). And I’m out of the house by 8:56am and walking at a slightly rushed pace to the station.
Oh sh*t! I forgot my Young Person’s Railcard but there’s no time to go back. So my journey is £19:50 more expensive, but I don’t care.

10 minutes to spare in my changeover station, so I pop to Caffe Nero and grab a skinny chai latte and some porridge with soy milk and berry compote, and I’m off out of London on a 2 hour train ride!

During the journey I think again about how nice it is that I am not worrying about his opinion of me or what he thinks. I do momentarily worry that he will stand me up, and then I remind myself that I’m being silly. I suppose I am slightly apprehensive though… Because what if I don’t like him? And then I smile at the change in my perspective.
Then comes the first big decision to make… Where do we meet? He’s just had a serious operation so is unable to drive and living at home (his parents’ home) whilst recovering. He can pick me up from the station, but his mum would have to drive us (*is he cool with me meeting his mum? or does he feel obliged to offer?* … Stop over thinking things!). Or I walk 20 minutes into the city centre… In the rain. I worry that meeting parents goes against our agreement to take it easy and not be intense. So I… Take a taxi. You can take a girl out of London, but you can’t take London out of the girl! :)

What do you do in a seaside town when there are strong winds and heavy rain (obviously going back to his home is an option I quickly rule out)? You apparently get dressed head to toe in water proof clothing and embrace it. He brought a whole bag of waterproofs and warm clothes in case I wasn’t prepared for the weather (aww). I have fun trying on his waterproof trousers, but they don’t fit… so I settle for a wooly hat, and an oversized waterproof coat… well there goes my attempt to look cute, thank god I didn’t spend long planning my outfit! And I like being dressed a little bit dorky, it makes me all giggly.
And we go out onto the pier. And we laugh. And we walk along the beach. And he catches me when I nearly get blown away in the wind (Damzel in distress!). And we kiss but our faces our so wet that our faces slide off each other. And we giggle. And we clash teeth. And we laugh. And we go for food. And he pays (which means more when your man is poor and unemployed). And we take turns drying our jeans in the bathroom with the hand dryers. And we walk through the town. And we drink hot chocolate. And he gets whipped cream on his nose. And I giggle. And he wipes it over my face. And we laugh. And we go into the woods and have a woodland walk. And we sit on a waterproof (he picks a spot with a nice view). And we kiss. And I stop myself from singing love songs in my head. And we kiss. And we get wet. And we don’t care. And we kiss (*man, I wish we had a bedroom!*). And a squirrel comes right up to us, and I compare myself to Snow White, and then I remind myself to get a grip and stop turning my life into a Disney love story! And then finally, when we are so cold and wet we can’t kiss anymore, he decides that I can’t get the train back to London damp. So his mum comes to pick us up. And we go to his house. And we meet his brother. But I don’t care. Because I’m not freaking out, and I’m not over thinking anything, and it feels nice. And I have a cup of tea, and put my boots by the fire, and see his room. And I get in his shower. And… Oh hello, you’ve joined me in the shower ;) (a lady never tells remember) … And about an hour later and I’m back on the train to London.

And I’m not stressing. And I’m not worried that it’s intense. And I love that we laughed and had fun despite the miserable weather. And I have butterflies. And I’m smiling. And I giggled like a little girl all day. And I’m trying to snap myself back into reality… but I’m comparing myself to Liesl in the Sound of Music. Well I did warn you I was a hopeless romantic!

How do I feel? I just feel… And. Because and is a word that needs something to follow it. And who knows, maybe something will. Or maybe it won’t. But that’s also fine, because everything happens for a reason, and at least I don’t have Sunday blues. :)

For those of you not familiar with cockney (people from London) rhyming slang, ‘telling porkies’ means telling lies. And my dearest readers, this is an apology to you, because I have lied to you. It’s something I would like to call a white lie, but it’s a lie nontheless.

What did I lie to you about? I hear you ask. All will be revealed, I promise. How could I lie to you? I know, I know. I am new to the whole blogging-about-my-private-emotions thing, and I felt guarded, but going forward I solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help me God.
In my last post, ‘Hello! is it me you’re looking for?’, I wrote about some of the men that have been in my life since breaking up with Jules. I wrote about their V’s, their N’s and the reasons our romance came to an end. Well… it has not exactly ended with the man I named the extremely personal Number 4. Why did I say it had? Well that gets me onto a discussion surrounding the complication and confusion of new relationships. To do that, and to make it up to you for my dishonesty, I suppose I must tell you the story of this man, and how he made it into my life. As I have previously mentioned, I do respect his privacy, but I do need to give him a name so that he becomes a slightly more personal character than just 4. So I name him my man. Obviously, he is not literally MINE (and maybe he never will be), but he’s the only one I’m interested in right now…

So let me tell you the story of my man and I so far…

We met about one month ago whilst on a yachting holiday in the Adriatic sea. Josh was with a big group of his friends, and I with a big group of mine. I was attracted to him from the moment I laid eyes on him, and luckily for me, the feeling was mutual. I don’t know if you’ve ever been on a yacht, but there is not much privacy. On top of that, I’m a classy girl, and I did not want to give him the satisfaction of being his holiday romance. This meant that during our week’s holiday, we developed a rather lovely emotional relationship. It also felt a bit like a teen romance, because there were no mobile phones and we had no mutual friends, so were excited to bump into each other and slightly nervous to be around each other. And, wow, did we kiss like teenagers! We kissed because there was a crazy attraction, and because, well… that’s all I would allow, despite his many attempts on yachts, pavements, deck chairs (ok, so it may have happened once on the deck chair!) , club car parks, et cetera et cetera. But my rule was clear, I was not the type of girl he could mess around on holiday (and he was kissing other girls, and I knew because he told me as he didn’t want to betray me, which I suppose you have to respect). By the end of the holiday, I couldn’t wait to spend time alone with him, so I did something incredibly bold and invited him straight back to mine from the airport.

I landed the day before, and well, it seemed a logical thing to do given that we developed a nice bond and he was flying back into London. And it was fun. And intense. But fun. And he told me that he was ‘into me’, and I told him that ‘I liked him’, and he came back to London a few days later, and then a few days later. And he took me on our first date (it’s a weird order I agree): we went to the theatre in London, and then for Mexican Street Food, and I thought things were great. Intense, but great.

And then it happened. The moment that the fantasy and the unsustainable intensity came crashing to reality. I got into my bed after the date … and I lay on his shoulder… and looked up… and he was … texting a relatively famous TV Presenter. I didn’t even mean to look. I just looked up and I saw the name. And, oh God. Why is he texting her? He already told me he kissed her before we met, and said he was flattered she paid him attention, but he made it out like that was it. She took someone else home that night (she must be a slut!). Why did he tell me a half truth? Why oh why oh why oh why is he texting another girl. Sure, guys had asked me on dates. But I liked my man and I wanted to see how things went without any risk of ruining the present.
So I got angry and I did was any other irrational girl would do and… let my rage fester and not say anything. And have him pester me to tell him what’s wrong. And fester. And pester. And fester. And pester… and WHY ARE YOU TEXTING A GIRL IN MY BED! Ok, there we go. Playing it cool.

One thing I would recommend, is not allowing yourself to have ‘the chat’ with someone when you are not sure the outcome you want yourself. Because then you end up in a conversation like this: “I like you but I don’t know how much… I don’t know what I want from you, I don’t care… but I do care… oh this is really intense, we don’t even live in the same city…” I’ll let you put it all together.

So he went home, confused at what he had done wrong, because it was just ‘innocent flirting’ (again, too much information but I love his honesty). Confused at what he wanted from me. Worried that things were too intense, and worried that we had told each other too much. And I was left at home and I felt… well, what did I feel? Hurt. Hurt because I liked him, surely… or because, as I have told you I am proud, and he should respect me, and like me, and not want to message other girls. Why does he not like me? Why are all guys cheating a**holes like Jules? Why am I comparing him to Jules? We aren’t even officially together, I don’t even know how much I like him… But I want him to like me. Oh no, what if he doesn’t like me anymore because he thinks I am a crazy jealous person. Am I a crazy jealous person?

And that is exactly what ran through my mind over the following days, and that’s exactly what I felt. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Worried about what he thought of me. Worried that he didn’t like me anymore.

And then I met the psychic, Katie Winterbourne (see my earlier post), and I got my pre-Jules-days confidence back. And through this confidence my attitude and anxiety shifted. I stopped thinking about the ‘What if he doesn’t like me?’, and ‘what if he thinks I am too…’, and I thought what do I think, and what do I want, and how does he fit into that? And that is an empowering feeling. And I realised there is really no need for the anxiety, no need to worry about ‘what if’, and no justified reason to be angry, so I swallowed my pride. And I messaged him. And I was just honest. Honest about liking him. Honest about feeling hurt and WHY I felt hurt. And honest about feeling it was too intense. And I realised that the beginning of relationships are always confusing, and awkward, and uncertain. But that should be part of the excitement and not the reason for anxiety. And I am the one in the driving seat. I act because I feel, I will no longer act because of how he might feel if I don’t. I am myself. And if he doesn’t like it, then it is his loss. And this feeling is really empowering, because men will no longer be able to project their own vision of me onto me, and I will no longer bend and stretch myself because I am concerned about them liking me. And I think (hope) men will like that confidence.

So I decided that it’s ok if it doesn’t work out. And it’s ok to try it, because it doesn’t have to be about pride. Pride is just a barrier for fear. Fear that someone might betray me like Jules did. But pride might prevent me from moving forward. Is my man a bad guy for messaging other girls? Well maybe for doing it from my bed, but maybe that proves the innocence of it all. And I suppose he really didn’t do anything wrong because we aren’t in a relationship, and by messaging girls it doesn’t mean he doesn’t respect me. He respects me because he is honest with me when I need him to be, and that is enough. And that is already more than Jules offered.

Today I text him, and I said I wanted to get out of London (well I’m not going to be too keen and tell him it’s cause I want to see him ;-) ). And in 7 hours I will be on a train to spend my Sunday with him by the seaside (I really need my beauty sleep).

So, yes, I did lie to you. But I also lied to myself. Because it’s easier to walk away, than to risk getting hurt. But if you don’t take a risk, then you will never know. So until tomorrow night, dear readers, I already can’t wait to tell you about it. Let the adventure begin! :-)